


Choices

by Jess_S



Series: Felicitas [11]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012), Highlander - All Media Types
Genre: Arguing, But other tags may be added if I think of them, Complete, Crossover, F/M, Felicitas-verse - Freeform, Friendship, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Interlude, relationships, season 1 AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-28
Updated: 2018-01-28
Packaged: 2019-03-10 15:04:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13504029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jess_S/pseuds/Jess_S
Summary: A/n: Okay, so I mentioned the connection to Highlander: Raven and some of the background already, including its ending soliloquy that I hated so much. It’s before Amanda’s POV in ‘A Hero?’ if you’ve forgotten: ‘Chapter 3: What Are Friends For?’That ending really irritated me: with very few exceptions, I’ve never been a big fan of tragedies. This wasn’t an exception for me, this was just depressing, so of course my muses dragged it into this story. There’s some tendrils of long-term plot for the series hidden in here, but you’ll see them elsewhere in the series if you’re not interested in a non-Arrow-centric sort-of-interlude. Enjoy. ;-)





	Choices

**Author's Note:**

> A/n: Okay, so I mentioned the connection to Highlander: Raven and some of the background already, including its ending soliloquy that I hated so much. It’s before Amanda’s POV in ‘A Hero?’ if you’ve forgotten: ‘Chapter 3: What Are Friends For?’  
> That ending really irritated me: with very few exceptions, I’ve never been a big fan of tragedies. This wasn’t an exception for me, this was just depressing, so of course my muses dragged it into this story. There’s some tendrils of long-term plot for the series hidden in here, but you’ll see them elsewhere in the series if you’re not interested in a non-Arrow-centric sort-of-interlude. Enjoy. ;-)

_Felicity's P.O.V_.

 

Felicity wasn't at all alarmed by the feel of the Buzz warning her of another Immortal's presence as she turned onto her street late that night. She was surprised, however, to find the man that'd been living across from her for a few months now waiting on her doorstep instead of inside his own home across the street. "Hey neighbor," she greeted him with a friendly smile as got out of her car.

 

"We need to talk," Nick didn't return her smile, and his tone was flat, absent any of the amusement, exasperation or occasional admiration that usually characterized their conversations.

 

"Do we?" she replied, keeping her tone light as she opened her front door, never turning her back to him in the process despite not believing he'd ever harmed her. "And here I was looking forward to some shut-eye soon."

 

She really had been, but she wasn’t at all surprised that Nick had taken the opportunity provided by Oliver not coming home with her tonight to confront her now. Honestly she was just glad that the younger Immortal still had that much common sense—and loyalty—to not come storming over here when she wasn’t alone.

 

Though it wouldn’t be long before her boyfriend decided to at least check in with her to make sure she made it home okay, and then he probably would stay the night again. At this point she should probably give him a drawer. Or a dresser. Maybe a whole dresser, just to see how he’d react.

 

Still she wasn’t looking forward to this argument.

 

Nick was one of the good guys, yes. Even a friend. Sort of.

 

But, much like the Highlander, if Nick ran into an 'obviously evil' Immortal—a category that most headhunters almost _had_ to be lumped into—he wouldn't hesitate to challenge them. So the possibility of his young personality being overpowered by a Dark Quickening, especially a much older Immortal's Dark Quickening wasn't impossible. Unlikely, as he was quite stubborn and very set in his ways, but unfortunately not entirely impossible. Even Felicity herself wasn't always sure she'd be able to win out over the dark personalities of some of the more evil Immortal powers out there, and she was far more experienced and much, much more powerful than most.

 

Still, Felicity reassured herself as she stepped inside and held the door open for him, his Quickening didn't feel any different. Didn't feel dark, or noticeably more powerful than before. So that was hopefully not what had him waiting at her door after midnight.

 

Actually she had a good idea of what probably had put that severe, judgmental frown on his face, but she still leaned against the wall next to the ornamental display of swords that was closest to her front door anyway. "So, Nick, what can I do for you that couldn't wait for a few hours?” she asked him with her best ironic smile. “You know, after some sleep, sunrise and a cup of coffee? Maybe even breakfast?"

 

The younger Immortal's scowl deepened a little more at that, but with a glance between her and the swords she was standing next to, he visibly forced a calmer expression as he sat down on her couch—the new one she still wasn’t anymore used to than Oliver. The younger Immortal tucked his hands tucked in his pockets before he answered her. "You can tell me what the hell you think you're doing."

 

"At the moment? I'm talking to you and wondering how much longer it'll be before I can go to bed," Felicity answered with a light tone and a careless shrug. “It’s been a long day. Long couple of days, actually.”

 

Maybe it was a bad idea to provoke him, but the judgment in his eyes really rubbed her the wrong way.

 

It was a reminder of the fact that too many other people didn't care that the Arrow had helped and kept helping Starling City. The people that said he was a murderer rather than a hero even when referring to the times he'd only killed to save someone's life.

 

And, in Felicity's mind, some of the people Oliver had crossed off his father's list even when they didn't have guns pointed at people _were_ rendered more than threatening enough by their life-choices for it to still count.

 

Yes, she'd argued with Oliver about his targets a few times, especially when she wasn't sure he was thinking clearly, or maybe was thinking too narrowly. But, all in all, the Arrow had done more good for Starling City then harm, and it bothered her that there were still people, maybe many people, who didn't realize that—even with the media almost advertising for him these days.

 

"Do you know what I thought when you asked me to come help out a little by hanging around here for a while?"

 

"No, not specifically. I can’t actually read minds—as far as I know none of us can," Felicity shook her head as she set her purse down on the counter and sat down there next to yet another one of the many places around her home where a sword was hidden. Not because she thought she’d need it, but better to be safe than sorry. “But I’m sure you’re going to tell me.”

 

Nick nodded. "I _thought_ : Okay, she said she needs a little help with something, and hey, maybe I can help catch the modern day Jack the Ripper while I'm at it."

 

Felicity's eyebrow immediately started to twist towards a scowl, "He's not—"

 

" _Then_ it occurred to me: Wait, what if this Hood guy's an Immortal? Would that qualify as the 'little' something she meant?"

 

"He's—"

 

"It never even crossed my mind that you might be crazy enough to be _protecting_ that psycho!"

 

"He is _not_ a psycho!" Felicity finally burst in, continuing before he could. "He's a hero, Nick."

 

He just glared right back at her. "We obviously have _very_ different definitions of what that word means."

 

The blonde threw her hands wide, "Protecting people? Saving lives? Trying to make this city better for everyone?" She shook her head. "Do you really think that _doesn't_ make him a hero?"

 

Nick stared at her for a second, still frowning, then he said, "Felicity, he's killed—"

 

"So have I." Felicity shook her head. "So have you. I mean, _you_ even had me hack you into the military so you could go fight in the Middle East after nine-eleven, so you _can't_ say it's just because of The Game, anymore than I can."

 

"That's different. On both counts."

 

"Why?"

 

"It was war. And so's The Game."

 

Felicity couldn't hide the surge of dark amusement she felt at that, but she bit it back to go with one of the arguments she'd had saved up for this very conversation and others like it. "And a declaration of intent before the killing makes all the difference?” she asked him, not even trying to keep the mocking edge out of her voice. “Or is it because some politicians decided on it?"

 

"No, there…" Nick shook his head so quickly it looked like it hurt. "There has to be cause and—"

 

"You don't think an arms dealer who was bent on selling machine guns to gangbangers in The Glades should've been stopped?"

 

"He should be behind bars now, not six feet under,” the detective snapped back at her. “That's what the cops—"

 

"No. The cops—the S.C.P.D especially—just find the bodies afterwards, Nick. They find them, and bury them. They don't stop it from _happening_." Felicity shook her head. "You _know_ they don't have the resources for that."

 

"Then the _A.T.F_ —"

 

"Have you heard of them coming anywhere near Starling City? _Ever?_ Even if they could necessarily do anything about the guns since everyone is pretty much allowed to own any kind they want these days?" Felicity raised an eyebrow. "Even if they could do something. This isn't New York City, Nick. But it is a city with a lot of problems and not nearly enough people trying to solve them." She shook her head again. "If you want the situation here to get better, you might want to think twice before you decide you _don't_ want everyone helping however they can."

 

By the time she'd finished that spiel, enough of the outrage seemed to have seeped out of the younger Immortal for him to finally fold down onto her couch with a sigh.

 

"He's _killing_ people, Felicity," Nick told her again, like repeating it would make it mean something else.

 

Or something more. Like it didn't mean enough the first time.

 

It did. It always did. But sometimes those lives lost had to be counted against the lives that were saved as a result, even if those calculations couldn't always be made—not exactly enough to ever make anyone feel better. The conscious called you out on all crimes, no matter the justifications, but to civilization as a whole reasons and logic had to have their say in justice, too.

 

"When he has to," Felicity nodded, then she shook her head again. "But he's been showing more restraint. Even the _S.C.P.D_ must've noticed that."

 

"Yeah. That was in Lance's last report, like you already know, I’m sure," Nick snorted, then sighed. "And I'm sure you can make some good guesses about the talk of the station before that."

 

Felicity just shrugged again.

 

The younger Immortal studied her for a moment, then sighed again. "So, what? The ends justify the means?"

 

Felicity shrugged, "Yeah, I think there's some unintentional social Darwinism in this. Definitely in some of his rhetoric."

 

Nick snorted.

 

Felicity shook her head and pointed out; "And you can't say this city doesn't need the help." Then she watched his face for several moments before she finally asked, "So? What're you going to do now?"

 

Had he brewed up this storm with her now because that was all he was going to do about it? Or was she underestimating how much his mind could work out and how much he could stomach at the same time? She didn’t think so—she had been waiting for this conversation for a little while now, after all, but she wasn’t always right either.

 

"It hardly matters what I think, does it?" Nick scoffed, shaking his head. "It's not like I can _do_ anything about it now."

 

Felicity frowned slightly at that, not liking the bitter edge in his tone because it could lead nowhere good. "If you want a new identity—"

 

"So I should leave if I don't want to help your madman, huh?" he cut her off with another scoff.

 

"No," the ancient shook her head. "You don't have to help him. Or me, if you don't want to. I told you, your past favors are already paid."

 

This time Nick snorted again. "But if I want to actually have a semblance of a normal life when I have to move on again, I'll still need you."

 

"Well, you _could_ learn how to do it all yourself," Felicity pointed out in response. Then she rolled her eyes. "Of course, you'd have to find a way to justify it in your black-and-white worldview first."

 

Nick snorted. "No wonder you and—and _her_ are friends.” He swallowed, then sped on. “So seeing a clear distinction between good and evil's wrong?"

 

"No. It's just impractical when you know everyone has a bit of both in them. When you _know_ most of us are somewhere in the middle, with different degrees on each side balancing us out. Some of us are just more good, others are more bad—but the term ‘evil’ shouldn’t be applied lightly to anyone." Felicity shook her head. "You don't have to help us though, Nick."

 

"I just can't work against you," the much younger Immortal answered dryly, going on when she only watched him in response this time. "If I turn you in and they search your computers, they'll find me and who knows how many other Immortals, won't they?" Nick sighed. "Even if I could live with that to see some cuffs slapped on your wrists over this, I’m sure you wouldn’t let it get back to your _boyfriend_ ,” he emphasized the term like it was a slur, then shook his head. “And you’d just hang yourself or something in jail and be out in a few days—a dead end against the Vigilante. And I’d be lucky if I never hear from you again."

 

There was a certain degree of truth there, not nearly enough to deserve that derisive tone though. Felicity watched him for a long couple of moments after he finally finished that rant, then she shook her head. "I have a doctorate in computer sciences, Nick. And that’s from this life.  So it's very unlikely they wouldn't try to check my computers eventually," she pointed out, before she shrugged. "Would they be able to get in? Probably not, considering how over-worked and under-paid the poor men in the S.C.P.D's crime scene unit are."

 

Also, the safety parameters she had in place for just that sort of eventuality would ensure that there’d be no way for the police or anyone she didn’t allow access to find anything. Not just for Oliver, of course, but for all those other Immortals that Nick wasn’t wrong to imagine also came to her for that sort of help. All her systems were set to override themselves and then commit suicide for just that eventuality, not just the ones she'd put together for Oliver and Digg under the nightclub with too much green and arrow imagery. But the irritated and resigned detective didn’t need to be told any of that right now.

 

"Like _you're_ making their job at all easier," Nick scoffed again, and again rolled his eyes when she only kept looking back at him. " _Don't_ try to pretend that most of the digital evidence on the Vigilante Case disappearing was a coincidence. I know that the device you had me setup so carefully a few weeks back had something to do with the server being fried. A bunch of the techs said they should’ve been able to recover at least some of the files, even if they couldn’t figure out how you did it,” he had a magnificent scowl on his face by the time he finished, but it fell away only moments later when she just kept calmly watching him as he let out another tired sigh.

 

Felicity couldn’t bring herself to pity him; he was the one that’d decided to come over here this late. Granted Oliver would likely be here soon, so he wasn’t wrong to come over for this as soon as he’d realized she’d come home on her own. But he was intruding in her home, and her opinion on Oliver’s crusade was decidedly more complicated—and positive—than the much younger Immortal’s.

 

“I tried to tell myself that it was necessary,” Nick shook his head. “That there was something on there: something that mortals shouldn't see, or something sensible like that. But after that broadcast…” he shook his head again. “It's obvious that the compromised files from the Vigilante Investigation weren't just a by-product of your attack." He snorted. "I guess it was nice of your boyfriend to replace the server, at least."

 

Felicity didn’t let herself blink, though that was news to her. Instead she shrugged and agreed, "He certainly didn't have to."

 

"Humph," the moralizing man scoffed, before sighing again. "It's not fair to Lance."

 

That did make the blonde blink. "What?" she asked, not bothering to insult his intelligence by pretending he hadn’t come to the right conclusion about her working with the Arrow meaning her boyfriend was the archer. It wasn’t that big of a leap to make, after all, if you had enough of the pieces to put together.

 

"He's _right_ about Queen." Nick shook his head. "But now everyone thinks he was just blaming him for getting his little girl killed. Even _Lance_ thinks he was wrong these days."

 

"The Arrow has helped Detective Lance more than once," Felicity answered calmly. "He’s even saved his life."

 

"Saved his daughter a few times, too. Yeah, I know," the younger Immortal recognized, before shrugging. "'Course his ex-girlfriend might not have been in some of those tight spots if he hadn't involved her in the first place." He raised an eyebrow at her, then pointed out almost scathingly. "Something you might want to keep in mind, since you're dating him now."

 

He couldn't quite pull off complete disrespect for her, even when he was completely pissed, so it was still hidden under his unhappy sarcasm. But the fact that he even tried made both Felicity's eyebrows go up.

 

"You can't really think I'm just working with him because he's good in bed?” She shook her head, and added without waiting for an answer, “I realize you’ve probably been trying to catch me before he came over for at least a few nights now, but—”

 

“I don’t care about your sex-life,” Nick told her, rolling his eyes. “Though I’m surprised the crazy ex-mob princess didn’t castrate him after he dumped her.”

 

Felicity snorted, because even Oliver’s hero-complex couldn’t possibly find a way to forgive the Huntress for _that_. “She’s not nearly skilled enough for that,” she said with a shrug that was easy because she truly couldn’t imagine Oliver ever letting his guard down around Helena Bertinelli nearly enough for that to happen. Even though he’d slept with her a time or two—that was before he’d had to recognize that the Huntress wanted to watch the world burn just to see her father dead. “Not yet anyway,” she added thoughtfully, sparing a thought for the fact that her sending the Huntress to the League of Assassins undoubtedly brutal enforced rehabilitation could potentially backfire badly in that regard.

 

Though if that woman was somehow able to escape Nanda Parbat it’d be stupid of her to come to Starling City, because some of Mazin’s disciples would undoubtedly get here first.

 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Nick demanded, and then sighed. “I suppose you know where she is? What, is the other archer working with you, too?”

 

“No, he’s not.” Felicity answered evenly. “We don’t know who he is.”

 

“Hmph,” the detective scoffed again, but the exasperated edge to it sounded a little milder this time, even before he sighed again. “So you really think he's one of the good guys, huh?"

 

The anger and sarcasm finally seemed to fade away on that sigh, leaving behind only that weary, wary disbelief. And that respectful regard the young, intrepid Immortal could never quite shake. What had Felicity smiling slightly, however, was the little bit of hope she could hear leaking in near the end there.

 

"I'd hardly be working with him if I didn't." She pointed out; pleased at the turn this was taking. "Let alone falling in love with him."

 

"Falling in love?" Nick shook his head. "Is it really that easy for you?"

 

That made the ancient frown again. "No, actually," she replied, relief and pleasure instantly giving way to coolness as she held his gaze steadily till he looked away a moment later. “It isn’t.”

 

"Sorry," he immediately offered; half-hearted, but nonetheless sincere.

 

"Apology accepted," Felicity replied, before sighing again herself. "Look, I under—Actually, you know what? No. I _don't_ understand why you hate Amanda so much for saving your life."

 

Because _that_ was really the root of all Nick's problems when it came to other Immortals. And at some point he was going to have to grow up and forgive the Immortal thief he’d once loved. Especially because a part of him likely loved her still, and always would.

 

Nick had to at least forgive Amanda enough to let the anger and supposed-betrayal go. It’d simmered under his skin since he woke up with his own Quickening active after she’d saved him by shooting him, so that forgiveness wouldn’t be easy, but it wasn't like he had it in him to take the other path. It wasn't like he could become one of the bad guys and try to kill her. He might, if a powerful enough Dark Quickening erased who _he_ was from his own head—or just twisted him into an evil caricature of his real self. But short of that she couldn’t see it happening.

 

“Saving my...” the detective trailed off with a scowl, shaking his head as he went on, “She didn't save my life. She _shot_ me.”

 

"And, as a result, you survived what would've been an agonizing, drawn-out-death that _may_ have actually killed you. Maybe permanently,” Felicity pressed firmly. “How does that _not_ count as saving your life?"

 

Nick was quiet for what felt like a very long time, but neither one of them was watching any of her clocks around the room. Finally he sighed and replied half-heartedly, "She made me... this."

 

Felicity immediately rolled her eyes in response. "Amanda didn't _make_ you an Immortal, Nick. You _were_ a Pre-Immortal your whole life, and when you met your First Death, you became Immortal. You _know_ that's how it works."

 

The detective shook his head, "If she'd just let me—"

 

"What?" Felicity cut him off and spelled out exactly what he was only implying. "Die a very slow and very, very painful death? You really think if she had, you wouldn't have woken up again?" she demanded, while biting back the retort she wanted to make that was along the lines of: _Why would he want that anyway?_

 

"That's what the poison was for," he maintained stubbornly.

 

The ancient rolled her eyes, "No. That is what a madman who hated Amanda—and by extension, you— _said_ it was for. That doesn't mean it was _true_." She hurried on when it looked like he was going to try protesting, not really caring what his protest might actually be. "It's _much_ more likely that you would've woken up at least a little crazy after finally dying in long, needlessly drawn out agony." She shook her head when he frowned again. "You've met your share of bad guys, Nick. How many of them would you call helpful, or at all honest, people?"

 

The man that’d chosen to become a cop in both his first and current life considered that, then asked her, "So you think I would've become Immortal anyway?"

 

"Yes. It’s more than likely,” Felicity nodded. “In fact, as far as I know, the myth about Pre-Immortals living out their mortal lives all the way till their natural, peaceful death and then staying dead because they have no reason to come back is just that. A myth. A child's tale told to help some Immortals cope with the nature of our existence. Because some of us need to believe that we’re still hanging around for some purpose—unfinished business, like ghosts, you could say." She turned towards her kitchenette then. "I'm going to make tea, would you like some?"

 

"Thought you were going to bed as soon as you kick me out?"

 

"I have de-caf if you prefer it," she said with a shrug, because it really didn’t matter how much caffeine they drank, their Quickenings would burn through it like everything else.

 

"I'll take regular," Nick replied evenly, and she could feel his eyes on her as she put the kettle on the stove, then got the tea cups out and started spooning tea leaves into the strainer. He wasn't actually an overly impatient man, she knew the storm he'd met her with tonight had more to do with however long he'd had to let it brew and build up inside him till he could finally let it out. So it didn't surprise her at all that he was capable of simply sitting down and watching her putter around the kitchen while they waited for the water to boil.

 

When the kettle whistled, Felicity picked it up and poured the hot water into the mugs, putting it back on the stove before she returned to the mugs to watch it seep. Then she told him, "I’m almost three thousand years old, Nick. And in all my years, I've seen only one Pre-Immortal die and not become Immortal.” She grimaced at the memory, but made herself keep going. “And _that_ was only because he was unfortunate enough to be an aristocrat in France during le Terrur.”

 

The younger Immortal blinked at her. "What?" he asked, somehow not immediately making the connection that she thought’d seem obvious to her even if she hadn’t seen it.

 

"The Reign of Terror—during The French Revolution. His First Death was a public execution—by the guillotine," Felicity clarified, still watching the tea seep. "So, really, I've _never_ seen a Pre-Immortal actually just die and stay dead. I've known more than a few who have tried to keep one or more Pre-Immortals safe; to let them live out their 'full lives' and die 'naturally.'" She sighed, shaking her head slowly. "It's never worked."

 

"Never?" Nick repeated disbelievingly, still frowning. "So, what? You're saying its destiny or something?"

 

"It just _is_ , Nick. We die, and then we wake up. Again and again. Until our head's cut off," the ancient shrugged. "That's just what we _are_."

 

She started pouring when the tea was ready without thinking about it. She'd brewed tea too many times to really need to think about watching the water boil or exactly how long it took to turn the exact shade she liked after she'd added the tea leaves. Though there was still some novelty in being able to see it: even after some number of years since she'd become fond of watching the water change once the glassmakers had started making glass that was so very clear. One of those modern conveniences she sometimes preferred, though there were times, too, when she didn't like that clarity and preferred to switch back to the old comforts of porcelain and other ceramics or even older metals. Tea such as it was thought of now wasn't as old as she was, of course, but the herbal brews made in her childhood weren't something she often felt the need to resort back to save for the very rarest of occasions, and this wasn't about her.

 

Even if the morbid topic had made her unconsciously select one of the jasmine teas she had on hand because she'd always associated that scent with comfort. Always had and always would…

 

The ancient watched the younger man drink several sips of his cup after he'd accepted it, silently sipping at her own at the same time. But after she poured them each a second cup, and watched him take another sip of that, she spoke up again. "Try to put yourself in Amanda's place, Nick. If she were dying, and pulling that trigger would _save_ _her_ _life_ —or just end her needless suffering—would you really _not_ do it?"

 

"Of course I'd save her," Nick admitted with another sigh, his scowl small this time even before he let it finally fade as he asked her, "But why didn't she _tell_ me?"

 

"That you'd be one of us, some day?" the ancient waited for him to nod before she replied. "From what I’ve heard, that's rarely worked out well in the past. But Amanda's not that old—so it was probably what she was taught. By her teacher, Rebecca, and by every new Immortal she met."

 

Nick's frown was small, too. "What do you mean?"

 

“Most mortals don’t _believe_ in Immortality, Nick. If the majority ever really did, they certainly haven't for a very long time. It's the stuff of fantasy, and fairy tales for children—not real life. Has been that way for a very, very long time..."

 

Felicity couldn’t let herself think about her own past as she said that, because truthfully she had known a few who had accepted her Immortality without any qualms—Eligius, Alexandros, and most of her later lovers, at least until the Ominous Decade, among them—but that didn’t matter to the lost looking man she was talking to right now.

 

So Felicity shook her head. "When you tell someone they're Immortal, or that you're Immortal, it's a _very_ rare person that will believe it, that _can_ believe it, without first demanding, and seeing, some proof."

 

Nick was quiet for another handful of moments before he said quietly. "Before that..." he hesitated, and she waited the thoughtful seconds it took him to say, "She made me believe she was dead. That one of the who-knows-how-many headhunters’ she’d faced had killed her."

 

Felicity nodded, remembering that story.

 

Not that she'd heard it from Nick or Amanda themselves. No. She'd heard it after the Watcher Joe Dawson had complained to Methos, and her brother had related the tale to her sometime after that.

 

"She was trying to protect you. She _was_ ," the ancient insisted when the much younger Immortal scoffed. "Every time you were near a headhunter because you were near her, she had to worry about them targeting you instead of her. _Every_ _time_."

 

"She shouldn't have—"

 

"Wait till you've had to worry about risking someone else's neck—their life and their eternity—by association with yourself, before you throw that stone, too, Nick." Felicity told him sternly. “You’ve yet to take on a student of your own, let alone come across a Pre-Immortal, unless the Watchers happened to miss it at some point before we helped you lose them?”

 

“No, they didn’t,” Nick admitted, holding her gaze for barely a moment before he looked down into his tea cup, contemplating it for several, much longer moments while she sipped at her own. "She'd already proved to me that she was Immortal," he pointed out softly. "Barely a week after we first met, she shot herself right in front of me."

 

Not any sane Immortal’s favorite way to prove that they were really, really hard to kill outright to anyone, but sometimes that sort of demonstration was really the only way that would work. In fact, it was the only reason Felicitas, herself, owned a handgun these days. Starling City wasn’t the Wild West, after all.

 

“Nick, knowing she was Immortal isn’t necessarily the same thing as accepting that you are, too,” Felicity shook her head. "Even if she had told you, can you really say you'd have believed her before you felt the Buzz of the Quickening yourself? Until you'd died at least once and then woken up?" She nodded when he blinked at her. "For some it takes several deaths before they really even start to accept it. It's normal."

 

Nick sighed, shaking his head slowly. "I don't know..." he admitted, sighing again as he finished.

 

Felicity only nodded herself. “‘What ifs’ aren’t ever a good thing to contemplate too hard, Nick. What's done is done, and it can't be undone."

 

He sighed, shaking his head. "Doesn't mean we can't wish it'd happened differently."

 

Felicity nodded again. "We're only human, all of us," she agreed, taking another sip of her tea and watching him do the same. When he set his empty cup down, she'd already picked up the teapot to start refilling it and topping off her own at the same time.

 

"She said..." the detective grimaced, but then made himself go on. "She said it can be a gift. My Immortality."

 

"It can be."

 

"Really?" He met her gaze again, ignoring the tea she'd poured even as she held his gaze while her hands added sugar to her own tea by the familiarity of the motions alone. " _The Game_ can be _a gift?_ " he retorted derisively.

 

Felicity couldn't help but grimace herself. "No. No one can say that and still call themselves sane," she admitted. "But The Game isn't everything, Nick. It isn’t, and it shouldn't be. You don't have to let it rule your life, anymore than I do."

 

"But we do have to go around decapitating people to survive."

 

" _No._ " The ancient insisted. "No, we don't." She shook her head firmly. "There are other paths, you know that. There are Immortals who avoid The Game entirely.”

 

“By living all the time on Holy Ground,” he pointed out, then added a little bitterly, “Not much for religion myself.”

 

It were times like these that sometimes made her wonder why she’d spent so much of the Middle Ages starting up so many holy orders all over the place. She wasn’t the only one, of course, several other Immortals in the Circle worked towards that end. At a certain point the various organized religions did well on their own, despite the blood they sometimes spilt along the way. But Immortals certainly had a vested interested in making sure there were plenty of sanctuaries scattered around the world. Even if many of the young ones, like the man in front of her, weren’t capable of imagining what the world was like with far fewer safe places to run to if needed…

 

“It’s not only monasteries, mosques and abbeys, Nick,” Felicity shook her head. “If an area is sacred to any people, or if it ever was, it’s Holy Ground. We can sense that. Don't ask me how—just pay attention to your Quickening. Even headhunters do that, whether they consciously know it or not. That part of you that's ready for a fight when you meet another Immortal? That's almost drowned out by the Buzz? If you pay attention to it, you'll notice that it all but disappears on Holy Ground. You may still feel it, somewhat, but it’s muffled—like you’re feeling it from afar, somehow. That’s part of the reason the real pacifists among us are able to stay at peace as long as they do there."

 

Paying attention to those instincts could teach you a lot more than that, of course, but Nick was still very young. And those lessons about yourself were the kind that you could really only learn on your own. Still, this wasn't a bad starting point. Or early middle point, maybe.

 

At his skeptical look, Felicity shook her head. "There are mountains and rivers that are or were sacred to people, too. Headhunters avoid them just as much as they avoid synagogues and churches, even if they don't always realize it."

 

Some of those places held more power, more influence, based on the belief system—and the number of people especially—that believed in them, of course. Another reason the organized religions—all of them—were beneficial to Immortals in general: the more widespread the belief in the sanctity of a specific place was, the safer an Immortal would be there. But that wasn't the sort of thing this young Immortal needed to hear now. Anymore than he needed a lecture on how the headhunters who were truly, entirely evil—completely committed to winning The Game and beyond all reason—could come close to drawing their sword on Holy Ground if that desire to destroy was stronger than their own survival instincts.

 

"But if I meet a headhunter, I'll still have to fight them," Nick shrugged. "We may have to go somewhere else to do it, but I couldn't just let them walk away to kill someone else."

 

No, he couldn't. Anymore than she could, in that specific scenario.

 

Felicity nodded. "That's your choice, Nick. Just as much as it is their choice." She took another sip of tea, wincing a little as she realized she'd added a little too much sugar. The correct amount for a new cup, after all, wasn't the same for one that hadn't been entirely empty when she'd refilled it. "But look at all you've done in just the last few decades. All that you've had the time to do, because you are Immortal. Can you really say that that time wasn’t a gift? That at least some of those experiences weren't worth both living through and holding on to? No matter how many hardships you had to go through at the same time?"

 

Nick took another sip of his own tea before he sighed again. "Yeah… okay, some of them, I guess."

 

Felicity studied him as she took another sip of tea, sighing after she’d swallowed. “And still you don’t want to forgive her?”

 

“It’s not about what I want,” Nick frowned right back at her.

 

The ancient laughed. “That’s _exactly_ what it’s about, Nick!”

 

“No, it’s not.” He shot right back, setting his still half-full cup down with a scowl he directed at the table instead of at her. “I _can’t_ forgive her, Felicity.”

 

She frowned at him for another long moment, then finally just demanded, “Why not?”

 

“Because…” Nick swallowed, his scowl at the table having melted into a harder to read look that was somewhere between sadness and helplessness. It was a look of loss she’d seen in the mirror too many times, but couldn’t quite understand why he was wearing it now. “ _Because_ : There can be only one.”

 

Felicity stared at him for another solid second, as the pieces came together to form a puzzle shape she didn’t like at all. Then she set her half-full teacup down and reached under the table to draw out the sword that was always hidden there. It slid smoothly out of its specially crafted sheath as always, just like all of her swords did.

 

_Shu—uh—utt…_

 

To his credit, the detective only looked a little worried as he blinked at her, clearly bewildered by the fact that she’d just drawn a sword out of a piece of furniture, but not particularly worried. “What are you—”

 

“This isn’t Holy Ground, so surely you’re expecting it.” Felicity told him firmly, not even needing to work that much to force the hard look onto her face even as he stared at her.

 

“Expecting what?”

 

“If you really believe in The Game that much, and honestly think that you have no choice in the matter. Well, then, we have to fight, don’t we?”

 

Nick stared at her for a horrified second that was even more of a relief to her than the sight of his head snapping from side to side in a frantic headshake half a second later was. “No!” he protested vehemently, almost dropping his empty cup on the coffee table to hold up his hands. “No, I—”

 

“But there can be only one,” Felicity cut him off again. “That’s the rule, right?”

 

“Yeah, but—”

 

“So why aren’t you drawing your sword already?”

 

“Because I don’t _want_ to fight you, Felicity!” Nick didn’t quite yell the words as he glared ferociously at her. But his palms were still facing her up in the air—because he still wasn’t reaching for the sword that was sheathed in his coat.

 

Felicity couldn’t quite decide if that was a sign she should let herself draw hope from or be insulted by the fact that he clearly didn’t consider her a threat. A little bit of both, perhaps, though the first was a better place to focus on by far. “But you just said it yourself,” she pressed again, as calm but unrelenting as she could be when they were discussing this. “There can be only—”

 

“You _know_ what I mean!” Nick threw his hands wide, bringing them even farther from his hidden sword. Not that he seemed to recognize the fact that, if she wanted to, she _could_ take his head off before he ever drew his own blade anyway. “That’s the only law our kind live by!”

 

“ _No, it is **not**_.” Felicity retorted, conviction in each word. She held his gaze, unblinking for several long seconds, till he finally looked away. “That’s _The Game_ , Nick. You know that.”

 

“But The Game is the only law all Immortals recognize,” the younger Immortal insisted quietly, still staring at the table again instead of meeting her eyes.

 

Felicity snorted. “The Game isn’t laws or any kind of order at all, Nick. It’s _chaos_. Survival of the fittest, at best,” she sighed, knowing better than to go much farther than that.

 

Now wasn’t the time to really get into everything she actually knew about the damn Game. He wasn’t ready for the arena the ancients played on: some Immortals never were.

 

Amanda had been nominated half a dozen times, but she still hadn’t received enough votes of approval to be invited to the table when they met—her chosen profession seemingly a fault too many couldn’t see past, despite its use to them more than once. And now she didn’t even have Rebecca to keep nominating her, so perhaps Felicitas would.

 

Nick, however, wasn’t nearly ready for any of that. In a thousand years or so, maybe he would be. Not now, though.

 

If he needed help seeing that The Game wasn’t a mandate he _had_ to follow, even if it meant killing his friends. Even if it might mean killing the woman he loved. He certainly wasn’t ready for the idea that it was called a ‘game’ because it was just that. A violent contest—a trap—that some ancient had concocted long ago and kept going against all attempts to stop it, to eliminate some of the competition from afar.

 

“It’s _your_ life, Nick.” Felicity went on a few moments later. “The only rules you have to live by are the ones _you_ _choose_ to.” She raised an eyebrow at him. “Do you want to kill me?”

 

“No!” he insisted, directing that severe frown at her again.

 

“And do you _want_ to kill Amanda?”

 

That made Nick’s frown melt into the forlorn-lost look again as he swallowed. “N-No,” he replied, looking at the table—or maybe at his empty cup—again. “Of-Of course I don’t…”

 

Felicity sighed, but set her center-of-the-room sword down on the table to reach for the teapot and topped both their cups again. After setting the pot down, she went on wordlessly to fix both cups again: adding just a little cream to his and just a very little amount of sugar to hers, before she pressed his cup into his hands and picked up her own. “Then what’s the problem?”

 

Nick sighed after he’d finished swallowing another sip of tea. “It’s not that simple.”

 

“Yes, it is.”

 

“No, it’s not!” the younger Immortal insisted, his hands shaking but not quite enough to spill the tea in the still almost full cup he was clutching between them. “What room is there for love when there can be only—”

 

“There’s the room you make for it, Nick!” Felicity interrupted. “It’s _your life_. It’s _your choice_.” She shook her head. “What’s so hard to understand about that?”

 

He shook his head again. “It’s not that simple.”

 

“It is, _if_ you want it to be. It’s as simple, or as difficult, as _you_ make it.” Felicity told him, all the authority she’d had to master over the years ringing through every word.

 

However, she wasn’t letting her Quickening out. No, this had to be something he recognized and chose, or it’d never work at all.

 

So Felicity finally returned the coffee table sword to its secreted sheath, not letting it scratch across the edges for the sound affect this time. Then she looked at him again. “You couldn’t even bring yourself to draw your blade against _me_ , Nick. And we’re just barely friends. What makes you think that anything in this world could _make_ you hurt the woman you love _if you don’t want to?_ ”

 

The younger Immortal just kept staring at her for several more seconds, then he finally objected again, his voice so soft she could barely hear the words, “She never told me…”

 

They’d already been over that, but obviously it was significant to him, so she didn’t mind going over it again.

 

“Like I said, that’s just the way it’s done, Nick,” Felicity told him firmly. “The way all of us have done it for a very, very long time. If you meet a Pre-Immortal, and if you’re an at least semi-honorable sort of Immortal, you stay around until they need Immortality explained to them. And that’s _after_ their First Death, not before.” 

 

“So she was just waiting for me to die,” Nick snorted. “And I’m the bad guy?”

 

The ancient shook her head even though he wasn’t looking at her anymore. “Obviously she got a lot closer to you than some teachers ever do. But she fell in love with you, just like you did with her. Can you really hate her for that?”

 

He didn’t try to deny the first, he only swallowed and answered the question with a rough, “No.”

 

Felicity watched him for a few more moments, simply sipping at her tea and watching him stare at his still half-full second cup. When she finished her own third cup, setting it back in its saucer, she spoke again. “You’d be lucky, you know,” she told him softly. “If you could make it work with Amanda. Despite everything.”

 

His only reaction was in the way his shoulders suddenly sagged a little bit more, but that told her he was still listening even though he seemed to be looking for answers in his tea.

 

“I’ve always been just a bit jealous of Angelina and Robert, and others that are as lucky as they are,” Felicity told him, going on as gently as she could now. “They’ll always have each other, as long as The Game or something like it doesn’t destroy them. _You_ can have that.” She finished firmly, meeting his hopeful, uncertain gaze as soon as it shot up to hers. Their gazes stayed locked another long moment, then she shook her head. “But only if you're willing to try.”

 

Nick swallowed again, then finally he stopped just sitting there and reached out to pick up his cup, before throwing it back in one gulp. “Thanks for the tea,” he told her as he got up.

 

“You’re welcome.” Felicity didn’t let herself frown, because she didn’t doubt he’d heard what she’d said and that he’d think about it. It wasn’t a decision he could be expected to change in one night when the mistake had already been dragged out for years. Instead she stood up to follow him towards the door, but asked before he got there, “So? Am I going to be getting new neighbors soon?”

 

The detective snorted, but he stopped to look back at her again. “I just got here,” he told her, shaking his head. “And I don’t like to move on any more often than I have to.”

 

“Glad to hear it,” she nodded once, watching him nod back. Then another thought occurred to her and she sighed before adding, “Well, if you’re not going anywhere I should probably tell you that there’s another Immortal here.”

 

The detective blinked at her, his frown far less severe than any of the earlier ones had been. “Friend of yours?”

 

“No,” Felicity denied, and then shrugged. “We just met the once. He said he moved here a few months ago, at the start of the year. He’s working at _Merlyn Global Group_ , in their cyber security department.”

 

“Uh-huh,” Nick nodded slowly. “So he only knows you as Felicity Smoak then, right?”

 

“Uh, no. Actually, I was going by Erika at the time,” Felicity admitted sheepishly, shrugging when the detective rolled his eyes.

 

“I’m not even gonna ask,” he told her before asking instead, “He got a name?”

 

“Starek. Paul Starek now, Paulius Starek originally. He was Polish nobleman in the late 16th century,” Felicity shrugged. “I can send you what the Watchers have on him if you’re interested, but he’s not dangerous on his own.”

 

“Hmm,” Nick nodded, and then frowned again. “Wait, the Watchers know about him? So—”

 

“They don’t know he’s here,” Felicity cut him off, “They lost track of him in Switzerland a few years ago and haven’t found him since then. Happens sometimes, even with the Immortals that don’t know about them. Less often, obviously, with modern tech at their disposal, but they still make mistakes.”

 

Nick nodded again. “Good. That’s good,” he thought about it a moment, then shrugged. “Sure, send me his file. Better to know than not, right?”

 

“Always,” the ancient agreed with a small smile, which fell with the younger Immortal’s next question.

 

“Is that file from the Watchers gonna tell me what you mean by ‘he’s not dangerous on his own,’ or is that something new, too?”

 

She thought of Malcolm Merlyn’s machinations—which they still didn’t specifically know anything about, other than it having something to do with the poorest part of the city—and the involvement of the League of Assassins. Something Nick Wolfe had never encountered or heard of before. Both of which were things that a Starling City detective couldn’t really help with, at least not until they knew what Tommy’s father was up to and if police intervention would be helpful—or if the League would be sweeping in for a more violent end.

 

So Felicity sighed again and went with the safer answer, “Another Immortal living here means others are more likely to follow, Nick. That’s always been the way it works—it’s likely where the myth of the Gathering came from in the first place. Our Quickenings are drawn to each other, drawing us together.” She shrugged. “Now there’s three of us, maybe more. And the Watchers will notice if one follows a headhunter here. They know you, and Starek, after all.”

 

“But not you,” Nick pointed out. “Couldn’t you just wipe our pictures from their system like you did with—”

 

“I could, but it wouldn’t do any good when they have hard copies in safe storage and a Watcher who knows you well enough to recognize you.”

 

“Dawson,” Nick realized, then shook his head.

 

Felicity just nodded and took another sip of her tea as she started turning over the idea of Oliver showing up while Nick was still here late at night. Her boyfriend wouldn’t think she was cheating on him, she knew, he trusted her too much for that. Something she couldn’t quite make sense of in her head, since trust seemed to be such a hard thing for him to give, yet he’d seemed to trust her from the moment they met. But then again she’d both liked and trusted him from that first meeting, too: lying smiles and all. But he’d still want to know why her neighbor—and specifically the one who was a detective working on the S.C.P.D’s Vigilante Taskforce—was here for tea when she’d gotten home so late anyway.

 

“Your archer played bodyguard to Malcolm Merlyn a little while back,” Nick said then, “Even MacGyvered-up a blood transfusion for him on the spot after he was shot with a curare-laced bullet.”

 

Felicity blinked at him, not sure where this had come from, but she still replied evenly, “Mister Merlyn would’ve died if he hadn’t.”

 

“Yeah,” Nick didn’t disagree. “But am I supposed to be keeping the _Major Case Squad_ away from the Merlyns, too, now?”

 

Felicity immediately shook her head. “What you do is up to—”

 

“Will any investigation _there_ lead back to you?” he cut her off firmly.

 

She hesitated a moment, “No. I don’t think so,” She sighed again. “Starek knew I was there before the Triad attack, and he didn’t report it to the S.C.P.D, right?”

 

“First I’ve heard about it,” the detective confirmed. “Never met the man myself, so he was never in the station either.”

 

“And there was nothing in the tapes from _Merlyn Global_ either?”

 

“No,” Nick frowned again. “Should there have been?”

 

“If there wasn’t anything interesting there, Starek erased several things,” Felicity admitted before another sip of tea.

 

The detective rolled his eyes. “And you’re not gonna tell me what they are?”

 

Felicity frowned as she thought it through yet again, then told him, “Just be careful around Malcolm Merlyn, okay?”

 

The younger Immortal blinked. “Excuse me?”

 

“Honestly, I don’t know what he plans for Starling City yet, but I don’t think it’s good,” she told him.

 

Given that Tommy’s father had gone out of his way to hide his actions from the League of Assassins she was certain of at least that. Malcolm Merlyn was being far too wary, and he was definitely planning something big. They just didn’t know what yet.

 

But with both the League and Team Arrow investigating, whatever he was hiding would come to light sooner rather than later, no matter how much care he took to hide it. They had the advantage of surprise at the moment, of course, because Merlyn might be expecting the Starling City Vigilante’s investigation, but the care he’d taken to avoid the wrath of Ra’s al Ghul meant he shouldn’t be expecting Nyssa’s attention now.

 

Starling City was under the League’s protection because of her student’s promises to her. But all Merlyn knew was that it _was_ protected, and so he likely rationalized that the Head of the Demon would approve of his attempt to take out the Vigilante back in December. It _was_ something Mazin wouldn’t have batted an eye at unless she protested it—if not for the fact that the League now knew that The Arrow was _her_ beloved, and therefore owed even more protection than her home city was due.

 

“And you _don’t_ think the S.C.P.D should be looking into that?” Nick’s frown was even more severe than it’d been when they were talking about the woman he didn’t think he should love but still did.

 

Felicity winced, but told him, “It’s being handled.”

 

“Protecting this city is what its police are for, Felicity,” he tried.

 

“They do what they can,” she agreed, and just as quickly added: “This is something they can’t.”

 

“Why not?” Nick wanted to know.

 

“Because they don’t have the manpower, training or resources to handle something of this magnitude.”

 

That made the detective blink, “But your vigilante _does?_ ”

 

Felicity held his eyes for a long moment, then repeated firmly, “It’s being handled.”

 

“Fine,” the younger Immortal sighed. “But if the Taskforce starts to look into anything at _Merlyn Global_ —or _Queen Consolidated_ , for that matter, I can’t promise I’ll be able to steer them away.”

 

“And I’m not asking you to,” Felicity told him. “Just don’t try to get involved yourself. There’s a lot more going on here than you realize.”

 

This wasn’t just about protecting Oliver anymore. She didn’t want Nick caught in the crossfire if the League of Assassins brought its full might to bear here either.

 

But the detective frowned at her, “I can help, Felicity.”

 

“No, you really can’t.”

 

“I can if you tell me what the hell’s going on,” he tried to insist, his frown an outright scowl now.

 

But the ancient was well and truly immune to frowns and scowls from younger Immortals who didn’t— _couldn’t_ —understand what they were trying to take on. It’d been far longer than she’d like to own to since she’d even batted an eye at the fervor and convictions of youth, though she did sometimes marvel at how that exuberance seemed to cling to Immortals for so much longer than the mortal they lived among, but then maybe their limited time—and the young Immortals lack of that limit—was the driving factor there. “Not as a member of the S.C.P.D you can’t.”

 

Nick’s sigh was one of disgust as he shook his head, but his scowl had already melted back into a frown as he remembered that she really was a lot more stubborn than he was. “What, you want me to turn in my badge?”

 

“No,” she answered honestly.

 

“Then why—”

 

“You are helpful where you are, Nick,” Felicity told him firmly. “But there are some things the police _can’t_ help with.”

 

He frowned at her again for several long moments, then sighed. “So this does have something to do with the Circle, then?”

 

Felicity winced, because she could’ve answered ‘no’ to that not long ago, but with the League involved now, that wasn’t true anymore. “Something like that, yes.”

 

The younger Immortal grimaced. “And I seriously can’t join until I’m at least a thousand?”

 

“No,” the ancient shook her head slowly. “You can’t be nominated for a place on the Council before then, but there are positions for younger Immortals if you’re actually interested.”

 

“Would it mean I don’t have to spend almost a millennium wondering what the hell you’re up to every time they’re doing something?”

 

“There is a certain degree of compartmentalization, Nick. Sometimes a lot of it. There has to be.” Felicity sighed when he just kept looking at her. “But yes, if you wanted to become more involved in the Circles’ affairs, I can make some arrangements.”

 

Nick blinked at her. “Arrangements for what?”

 

“Training,” she answered evenly, still meeting his gaze steadily.

 

“I know how to fight, Felicity.”

 

“There’s more to it than that. A lot more,” the ancient told him, shaking her head again. “And we can all improve on our skills. Always.”

 

If he thought his sword skills were beyond compare, one meeting with anyone who’d trained with the League of Assassins—never mind the League of Shadows—would quickly teach him the error of his ways. As would any attempt to face off against an Amazon, but that wasn’t as easily arranged.

 

It was why, for the most part, Immortals weren’t even told about the Infinity Circle until they’d been around for at least that first thousand years.

 

But Rivka had been one of its founding members—and one of the ones who _did do_ the most recruiting before one of her students took her head—so it hadn’t surprised Felicitas that the other ancient had told one of her favorite students about the group as soon as she was of age. It also didn’t surprise her that Amanda hadn’t kept the secret from the man she’d fallen in love with—even before he became an Immortal. Regardless of how inconvenient it sometimes was…

 

Asking Nyssa al Ghul to train Nick, however, might not be a bad idea. She might only be a Pre-Immortal at this point, but Felicity didn’t doubt that the daughter of Ra’s al Ghul was Nick Wolfe’s superior in combat skills. Mazin would’ve made sure of it. And the type of training a member of the still mortal branch of the League could pound into him was exactly what Nick might need to realize he still had a long way to go before Felicitas would remotely consider him ready for the kinds of things the Infinity Circle had dealt with over the millennia…

 

“Fine,” Nick decided after a few more moments of thought. “How do I sign up, then?” he shrugged, “For whatever I’m _allowed_ to sign up for?”

 

Felicity studied him another long moment, then she nodded. “I’ll make some arrangements.”

 

“And _then_ you’ll tell me what the hell’s going on?” he tried.

 

“Once you’re ready,” the ancient agreed evenly, “If you are.”

 

Nick stared at her for just a second this time, then shook his head. “Of course,” he repeated, his agreement rendered sarcastic by the eye-roll he gave as he said it. “Fine. Just make sure it’s soon.”

 

Felicity silently arched an eyebrow in response to that, and it made the younger Immortal sigh again.

 

“Please?”

 

Slowly, the ancient nodded her head.

 

And he nodded back, “Well, good night then,” he said as he turned for the door.

 

Felicity followed, pulling it all the way open for him to go through, but she just couldn’t let him step outside just yet. “Nick?” she waited for him to meet her eyes again before she told him, “Just a word of advice?”

 

“Another one?” Nick smirked, but there was that genuine, friendly warmth in his eyes she was used to, so she just went on.

 

“Eternity is a _very_ long time to be alone.”

 

His smirk immediately fell, but he gave her a respectful nod before he turned to go.

 

So, as she watched him walk away, Felicity thought that maybe, just maybe, she could hold out hope for two more friends she hoped to see together and happy in the future.

 

After she closed and locked her front door, she turned towards the kitchen, taking her tea tray back in and setting it on the counter before she took the teapot off the stove and started filling it up with more water to heat up. She was tired, but Oliver wasn’t here yet, so she needed more tea. As the water started heating she went to the sink to rinse out her guest’s cup and put it in the dishwasher.

 

The archer had seemed to accept that her computers were working on their latest discovery and combing through much more information than he ever could on his own with it, but it wouldn’t surprise her if he was in the basement staring at that damn book and not upstairs playing the part of nightclub owner because he had to do that sometimes.

 

But she couldn’t call him on it.

 

If she did, he’d probably apologize right away and say he’d be there soon. Unless he was actually up in _Verdant_ keeping an eye on Thea and Roy. If that were the case he’d probably follow them back to the little house Harper called home in the Glades…

 

Felicity grimaced, because _that_ couldn’t lead anywhere good.

 

The sound of another motorcycle approaching, however, made her blink and then she smiled a little as she turned the stove off and filled the teapot with soapy water instead. She rinsed her cup out and emptied the tealeaves from the strainer into the trash, quickly rinsing it out and putting it on the drying wrack before she walked back to her front door just as the key started turning in the lock.

 

“I was getting worried,” Felicity admitted as her boyfriend came in.

 

Oliver blinked, but closed and locked the door behind him before he turned back to her with a little frown. “Worried?”

 

She shrugged, “I was starting to think I might’ve underestimated your concerns with Roy Harper.”

 

His frown fell away as he was rolling his eyes, but instead of saying anything he closed the difference between them and leaned down to peck a quick kiss on her lips that morphed into much longer than a peck.

 

Felicity had to rise up onto her tiptoes because her feet were bare, and therefore without the added support of high heels. But the moan that rose from her lips was pure pleasure as their mouths melded in that gently passionate way that promised so much more, which was probably why it was so very addictive. Well, that and the man was an excellent kisser.

 

Oliver chuckled as he pulled back a bit a few moments—or maybe it was minutes or hours later. “A car took Thea home before I left. Harper was still there, so…” he shrugged as he wrapped his arm around her.

 

Felicity blinked up at him for a moment, before she realized what he was admitting to and rolled her eyes. “She’s not a little girl anymore,” she pointed out as she turned them towards the couch they were both still getting used to.

 

“I know,” Oliver shrugged again, his arm staying around her shoulders all the way to the couch, and pulling her close as they sat down. “She’s still my little sister,” he defended himself as if by rote: no anger or even irritation at all there.

 

“She is,” the blonde easily allowed, because it was a simple and undeniable truth.

 

Her boyfriend sighed then, a little frown returning as he said, “He lives in the Glades, doesn’t he?”

 

“You mean you didn’t look at his information at _Verdant_?” Felicity asked him, honestly a little surprised.

 

“No.” Oliver sighed again. “I don’t know where Tommy keeps the keys and I don’t know how to pick those locks without breaking them.”

 

Felicity nodded approvingly, “That’s very thoughtful of you. I’m sure Tommy will appreciate it.”

 

“Felicity…”

 

“What? He will.”

 

Oliver just looked down at her then, not quite able to pull off an annoyed frown; likely because he knew she was teasing him.

 

After a moment Felicity decided to give in. “He does live in the Glades. Not too far from _Verdant_ , which is his first real job, thanks to Thea.” She shook her head. “His juvenile record is sealed, but there are no convictions to his name.”

 

“You told me that already.”

 

The blonde ignored him, though she kept looking up into his eyes as she went on. “He was only arrested for hurting anyone twice. Both times he was defending someone else.”

 

“What hap—”

 

“Does it really matter?”

 

Oliver frowned again, but then slowly shook his head. “No. Guess not,” he admitted, then sighed. “What does she see in him?”

 

“A face that could model if he could learn how to smile on demand,” Felicity answered evenly, then laughed as she watched him try to not let his frown become a scowl. “Somehow they hit it off. And she’s happy with him. That’s not a bad thing.”

 

She’d gotten him to agree to this once already, but it seemed like a sentiment and rational that she might have to keep drawing Oliver back to for a while. At least until the idea took roots that were deep enough to stay in place.

 

After a moment the big brother admitted grudgingly, “She does seem happy with him.”

 

Felicity nodded, “That’s really what matters. Right?”

 

Oliver rolled his eyes again but obediently agreed, “Right.”

 

Felicity chuckled again, but then her free hand flew to cover her mouth as it turned into a yawn about halfway through. “Sorry. Excuse me.”

 

“It’s late,” her boyfriend replied, standing and pulling her back to her feet in one move that was impressive because of his easy smoothness: even more so as he scooped her up in his arms a second later. “We should get to bed.”

 

She laughed lightly again, and this time is came out as a laugh the whole time. “I thought we were trying to get used to my new couch?”

 

Oliver’s frown was for the specific piece of furniture as he walked around it on his way to the bedroom. “I liked the other one.”

 

“I know. I did to. But it had to go, and change can be a good thing for everyone. Occasionally.” Felicity leaned her head against his shoulder as she pointed out, “It’s not that different.”

 

“It’s bigger.”

 

“Just a little.”

 

“It’s not as soft.”

 

“That’s why we have to break it in.”

 

“I liked the old one.”

 

“You already tried that one.”

 

“You liked it, too.”

 

“I did, but it’s gone now,” Felicity laughed again as she was gently tossed onto the bed, her smile coming all too easily as she watched him take his leather jacket off.

 

He must’ve left his ‘club owner suit’ back in the basement at _Verdant_ , because he started on his shirt buttons next. “We could still bring it back.”

 

“No, we really couldn’t.”

 

Oliver sighed as he finished with the buttons and took the shirt off, tossing it towards her laundry hamper but obviously not really aiming for it because it hit the rim and then dropped down to the floor.

 

Felicity smiled as she slid to the edge of her bed, still watching all the while because she knew better than to try and take her own clothes off. That seemed to be one of his favorite parts, and he didn’t destroy her clothing—most of the time—so she didn’t mind. What she did mind was when she ended up without anything on and he was still anywhere near fully dressed. So she’d sit here and enjoy the show and then everything that followed.

 

Everything else could wait for now…

* * *

NEXT:

_Interlude_

**_ Promises Kept _ **

_ Methos’ P.O.V. _

_Travel may be faster than what the ancients once knew, but it brings with it plenty of complications all its own…_

__

**Author's Note:**

> A/n: Okay, so now we’ve covered exactly who Felicity’s neighbor is without a shadow of a doubt… if you’re curious, you could just Google ‘Highlander: Raven Nick,’ or actually watch the spin-off. It’s not that long, and honestly it’s pretty self-contained: you could watch it without ever seeing any other Highlander show/movie and it should still make sense.  
> But there’s that interlude. I hope everyone enjoyed it. If you did, please comment, kudos, etc.  
> Next we get to find out where exactly Methos is…  
> ~ Jess S


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